Puccini – Turandot

La Principessa Turandot – Olga Maslova
L’Imperatore Altoum – Carlo Bosi
Timur – Simon Lim
Calaf – Ivan Magrì
Liù – Valeria Sepe
Ping – Lodovico Filippo Ravizza
Pang – Lorenzo Martelli
Pong – Oronzo D’Urso
Un Mandarino – Dou Qianming
Prima ancella – Thalida Marina Fogarasi
Seconda ancella – Anastassiya Kozhukharova
Il Principino di Persia – Davide Ciarrocchi

Coro di voci bianche dell’Accademia del Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Coro del Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Orchestra del Maggio Musicale Fiorentino / Zubin Mehta.
Stage director – Zhang Yimou

Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Florence, Italy.  Saturday, April 27th, 2024.

This revival of Zhang Yimou’s staging of Turandot marks the start of the 86th Maggio Musicale Fiorentino.  Zhang is of course known primarily in the west for his cinema directing, including House of Flying Daggers and Raise the Red Lantern.  Closely associated with the Maggio is Zubin Mehta, this year 88 years young, returning to conduct a staging that he led at its premiere back in the 1997 edition of the festival.  For so many music lovers, Mehta is also so closely associated with this opera, his 1972 recording with Dame Sutherland, Luciano Pavarotti, and Montserrat Caballé has long been seen as a reference and library choice for the work.  It was certainly the way I learned this opera, listening to it on repeat as an opera-obsessed teenager growing up on the other side of the world.

Zhang’s staging has been around – having also travelled to China and Japan.  It’s one that takes the work at face value, illustrating the action with great spectacle, not least the corps of danseuses who gyrate around the stage.  I’m not sure it was deliberately meant to be comical, but I must admit their contributions led to several laugh out loud moments.  For instance, in Act 1, as the chorus inquired after the moon, the danseuses paraded across the stage waving white chiffon scarves in the air.  Or the way how, whenever Turandot appeared, a group of them would wave their hands in the air behind her.  The sub-group that flailed around the stage at the start of the riddle scene, dressed only in white chiffon pants and sparkling brassières were also incredibly hilarious. 

The large chorus was moved on, parked, and moved off again, while direction of the principals consisted of a lot of standing and delivering.  The original Turandots in this staging were Sharon Sweet and Jane Eaglen, both more statuesque actresses than today’s Olga Maslova, and it still feels that the production was built around then.  With this focus on the spectacle, to the detriment of character development, it also felt that the moment where Calaf forcibly kisses Turandot, with the violence echoed in the score, went for nothing.  That difficult progression of Turandot being kissed against her will to saying Calaf’s name is ‘amor’, was barely explained.  That said, hearing Liù sing ‘noi morrem sulla strada dell’esilio’ in this country, where so many have perished trying to reach its shores, felt unbearably poignant.  Still, the staging was very well received by the audience at the close, and in the conversations I overheard at intermission.  Another issue with this revival, led by Stefania Grazioli, is that the stage of the Teatro del Maggio is rather recessed in relation to the rest of the auditorium.  I had a seat that was pretty much on top of the orchestra and Maslova’s Turandot would definitely have benefitted from being brought further forward in the riddle scene.

Hearing Mehta bring a lifetime of experience to this score was a genuine privilege – particularly since the Maggio forces were on superlative form for him.  He brought out a seemingly unlimited palette of orchestra colour: silky strings, piquant winds, percussion both able to threaten under the surface and add a massive undertone to the tuttis.  Yet it was the phrasing that felt revelatory – the combination of the exoticism of the orchestra colour, with a lyricism of line that never let one forget that this is an Italian opera.  Mehta also led Alfano’s completion with the same enthusiasm as the rest of the work, phrasing that big soaring melody in the trumpets as we headed into the final scene with such big, extrovert warmth.  The chorus, prepared by Lorenzo Fratini, was thrilling.  The sopranos gave us a massive high C-sharp at the close of ‘gira la cote’, while their high C in the riddle scene was exhilaratingly loud.  There were a few moments where the tenors and basses slipped slightly behind the beat, probably not helped by the distance between pit and stage, but make no mistake, this was sensational choral singing.  The tricky harmonies after Liù’s demise were expertly negotiated.  The contributions of the children’s chorus, prepared by Sara Matteucci, were dispatched with impeccable tuning and clarity of text.

It was positive to hear Maslova not take ‘quel grido’ literally.  There was a lunar beauty to her soprano that I found attractive and she made a genuine effort to shade the dynamics in ‘In questa Reggia’, bringing a welcome light and shade.  Maslova gave a sense that she had some understanding of what she was singing in her use of text, and she coped well with the high-lying declamatory writing of Act 3.  Maslova’s was a serviceable Turandot, if perhaps not quite the biggest or most cutting instrument to have essayed this challenging role.  Calaf seems like a much happier match for Ivan Magrì than the Radamès I heard him sing in Berlin.  His bright tenor carries well and he made a genuine effort to shade the text.  The top does sound a little disconnected, with the vibrations widening, but he gave us a very creditable high C in the riddle scene.  He got through ‘nessun dorma’ by sheer technique, the transition through the passaggio audible, but the big money note was there in a bright, forward placement.  Again, a serviceable assumption.  Magrì is sharing the run with Baek Seokjong (pictured). 

Valeria Sepe’s Liù was a very welcome discovery.  Hers is a genuine, Italian lyric soprano, with real promise.  She filled the text with so much meaning, while she floated up top with ease and a beautiful control of dynamics.  The voice is a good size and carries well – in fact, from my seat, she was more audible than Maslova.  Without doubt an artist I would be delighted to hear again.  Simon Lim sang Timur in a big, resonant bass.  If the top loses colour somewhat, his welcome sense of line gave much pleasure.  In the remaining roles, Lodovico Filippo Ravizza sang Ping in a handsome, chestnut-toned baritone with energetic stage presence.  Oronzo D’Urso sang Pong with a robust and confident tenor, while Lorenzo Martelli sang Pang in a well-placed, bright tenor.  Dou Qianming declaimed his interjections as the Mandarino with confidence.

This was a Turandot that gave so much to enjoy, even if there were a few reservations.  Zhang’s staging gave something to look at – although it was certainly unintentionally hilarious.  Unfortunately, he doesn’t challenge the more problematic aspects of the libretto, focusing instead on giving a good show – an approach that was certainly appreciated by the Florentine public.  The principals were serviceable and Sepe’s Liù was even more than that.  But it was in Mehta’s conducting and the performances of the house forces in today’s performance that gave so much to enjoy.  Mehta brought a lifetime of experience to this work, bringing out so much orchestral colour, while at the same time foregrounding both its lyricism and its violence.  The orchestral playing and choral singing were simply out of this world.  I feel immensely privileged to have been able to be there today, to hear Mehta lead this work and, with my seat pretty much on top of the orchestra, to be overwhelmed by the sheer wall of sound from the massed forces.  Undoubtedly an evening I will remember for a very long time to come.  The applause from the Florentine public at the close was extremely generous for the whole cast.